Reflection
by Nemisor
Summary: Mirrors are strange things. Is it really you that looks back from the mirror? Or is it someone else just looking like you? Bakura is about to find out. Geminishipping.


_A/N: one of my weird ones. ^^' But I really, really wanted to get this ready today. Why? Because it's KitsuneKittis' birthday. (bwaahaa, I mentioned you). Happy birthday, darling! :3_

_Geminishipping... O_o It was fuu-un... And you know when I'm having fun, the results are.. Well I don't really know... But I wouldn't mind doing this pairing someday maybe again.._

_So here you go Kitty! ^^ Hope you like! (I really do)  
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**Reflection**

The whole house was silent. It was night, so everyone was asleep—or at least they should be.

Downstairs on the hallway's wall hung a mirror. It was a perfectly normal-looking, simple mirror with thin golden brims.

But there are stories about the mirror that are not so normal. Surely you have heard them?

They say that spirits of dead can transfer from bodies to mirrors. That is why you must cover all mirrors or take them away in presence of the dead.

They say never stand between two mirrors because your soul will disappear into thousands of reflections. And without a soul there is nothing.

Mirrors itself aren't magical. They are just glass.

But reflections… They have magic in them. Is it really you that looks back from the mirror? Or is it someone else just looking like you?

Like all mirrors, the mirror hanging on the wall in that hallway wasn't magical. Not at all.

But the reflection, what was inside, was.

Can you see the gray fog inside the mirror? Can you see someone moving? He's trying to get free. He's trying to escape. Can you hear him calling out?

The silent shouts echo in the sleeping house.

Can you hear the name he's repeating?

_Bakura.

* * *

_"Bakura!"

The white-haired yami's head darted up as he heard his friend calling downstairs.

"Bakura," the voice that belonged to Malik continued. "We're leaving without you if you don't hurry!"

Bakura sighed when he heard how Malik dramatically slammed the front door closed. After pondering about it for a while, Bakura got up and ran downstairs. He hurried to get his stuff ready even though he knew that Malik and Marik wouldn't leave anywhere without him. It just didn't work that way. Malik and Marik didn't go well together unless Bakura was there to keep them busy and just _make_ it work. It was because of the whole trying to get rid of another thing that had happened during Battle City. And besides—

_Bakura._

Bakura spun around. Did that mirror just call him by his name?

Bakura crept closer to the said mirror. He wasn't very fond of mirrors in general. He hated to admit it, but mirrors were quite unnerving. Every time Bakura looked into one he had a feeling of his soul being pulled away.

And now the mirror had called him.

Bakura looked into it. All he saw was his pale and thin reflection and his own brown eyes glaring suspiciously at him.

Maybe he had imagined it. Bakura turned away and ran to meet his friends. He had no time to stare into mirrors, they had a long day ahead of them, slaughtering the innocents, having fun; you know the deal.

When Bakura turned away, the reflection for a second turned into something else, into someone else. It was a shame Bakura didn't turn to look at that moment.

With a wisp of white hair he was gone.

* * *

Bakura came home late at night. The day had been really long, but fun too. Bakura yawned as he shut the door behind him.

And there in the hallway was that damned mirror trying to look as innocent as a mirror could. Bakura glared at it daring it to try anything funny. The mirror remained silent. Bakura smiled to it. That's what he thought. He just had imagined it all. Why would a mirror talk to him anyway?

Bakura walked to it and smiled to his reflection. That's him alright!

But suddenly Bakura's smile faded. For a second, maybe just for a half of a second there had been someone else in the mirror. He had looked familiar, but before Bakura could recognize him, he had disappeared leaving only Bakura's confused face's reflection in the mirror.

"That's it!" Bakura growled. "Nobody messes around with me! Not even mirrors!"

He was just about to smash the mirror into pieces when a voice stopped him:  
"Yami what do you think you're doing?"

Bakura turned his head. Ryou stood there, hands on his hips, glaring at him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ryou repeated.

Bakura stuffed his hands into his pockets and grumbled:

"I want to get rid of the mirror."

Ryou gave the mirror a sideways glance.

"The mirror? Why?"

"It annoys me," Bakura answered, shrugging. 'And it talks to me,' he added silently in his mind. There was no way in hell he was going to tell Ryou that.

Ryou stared at Bakura, then burst out into laughter. Bakura raised his eyebrows at the laughing boy.

"You don't like what you see?" Ryou joked.

'Precisely,' thought Bakura and gave the mirror a warning glare.

"Oh, Bakura," Ryou sighed, and walked to his yami. He patted his cheek and smiled brightly. "I wonder what would happen if Marik and Malik knew about this little problem of yours?"

"It's not a problem!" Bakura snapped. "And you are not telling this to Istahr's! It's just a damn mirror!"

Ryou laughed and tucked his arm under Bakura's.

"Okay yami, I won't tell. Now we both need to get some sleep."

He started pulling Bakura upstairs. Bakura stole one last glance of the mirror.

Someone smirked to him before disappearing again.

* * *

The hallway was dark. The fog moved around in the mirror. _He_ was here again. He stood close to the mirror, eyes scanning the hallway.

Light clicked on.

His head snapped to the direction of the sound. Bakura stood there, leaning against the wall, finger on the switch, and a cocky smile on his face.

"Finally I get too meet my mysterious stalker."

"Stalker is such a strong word," the reflection said as Bakura walked to him.

From the mirror, in the middle of gray fog familiar face stared at Bakura. White messy hair, violet eyes, tanned skin and a scar on his cheek.

"Thief King," Bakura hissed.

"Akefia," the reflection corrected, smiling to Bakura.

"Whatever," Bakura shrugged. "What are you doing there?"

Akefia shrugged.

"I'm trapped," he admitted, "Thanks to you dear _reflection_. You stole my place. You! A mere reflection!"

Bakura smiled a sweet yet creepy smile.

"May I remind you that you're the one in the mirror?" he asked.

"Oh don't worry," Akefia said. "I'm not planning to be here for long."

And after that Akefia reached out with his hand. Bakura stared at the mirror, and the tanned hand coming out of it. The hand stroked his cheek, then wrapped around his neck, and pulled him closer.

The mirror had turned into liquid silver that tripped to the floor. Bakura wondered if he should fight back, but the person on the other side of the mirror was strong yet gentle, familiar: a reflection. Or was Bakura a reflection of him?

As though reading Bakura's mind, Thief King smiled. They were close—very close. Their foreheads touched, their noses touched, their lips touched. And between them, the mirror faded into nothingness and disappeared, leaving the two creatures from different times and different places with each other. Kissing it all away. The person and the reflection. But which was which?

But suddenly Akefia pulled away, and the glass wall was there, separating them. Bakura looked at Thief King in the other side of the mirror. The gray fog tangled around Bakura's legs and body. And the gray fog continued as far as the eye could see. Somewhere in the fog were small windows, other mirrors. Somewhere here probably were other people too. This was the place for reflections.

"What is going on?" Bakura growled, putting his hands against the glass, trying to get through it.

Akefia smirked, "Now you are inside the mirror. Have fun finding your way out."

"You… You..."

But when Bakura found no curse word strong enough he just gave Akefia a crocked smile and said:

"You truly are my reflection."

Akefia's face darkened.

"I am no reflection!" he shrieked and smashed the mirror into thousands of pieces that fell to the floor. For a second Bakura was in every one of them.

Akefia took one piece up and held it in his bloody palm. Akefia smiled to his reflection stained in blood. The brown eyes glared at him, before fading away.

Akefia chuckled.

Just a reflection.


End file.
